I have only one burnin’ desire.  Let me cook next to your fire!

Who doesn’t love some yaki-niku?  Plates and plates of delicious meats, and sometimes vegetables too, maybe some shrimp and scallops, all brought to you in profusion by cute waitresses with their hair in pigtails, and left for you to cook yourself upon the bed of brightly glowing coals.  With maybe some kimchee on the side.

Oh and beer too.

I think this may be Korean in origin, but I’ve never been to Korea, so to me it’s Japanese.

There are four of these places (that we know of) between our hotel and ISAS.  Two of them are part of the Gyu-Kaku chain, of which I am especially fond.  Mainly due to their ice cream sprinkled with some kind of malted flour (oat, maybe?)

I’d like to see them get away with this in the US.  Seriously. But I know that would last until some kid or drunk frat boy grabs the screen, burns himself badly enough to land in the hospital, and sues the chain back to Japan.

But this isn’t about things I hate.  This is about love.  Love of food, in point of fact.  Something a good deal more dangerous.  It gets hard to say no, y’know?  But how can you hurt the feelings of something like this?  Look at those marbled beefs, that basil chicken, those pretty peppers, that not-so-fresh corn.  Okay, never mind about the corn.  But the rest…

Yeah.  Keep ’em coming!

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